Admit Ignore
by colourmydreams
Summary: Sometimes the mind and the body wants different things, Lois Lane know this through experience. Clois


**Disclaimer**: Seriously? Still not mine, nothing.

**Spoilers**: None, I think. Up to 8x18 _Eternal_ to be careful.

**Author's Note**: This wasn't a planned piece, it just came when I opened word. I recommend listening to Lykke Li's song "Little Bit" (easy to find on youtube) it inspired me some to write this. It's Lois' situation taken to the extreme.

**Summary**: Sometimes the mind and the body wants different things, Lois Lane know this through experience.

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**Admit/Ignore**

It wasn't working, not at all, and that bothered her to no end.

For weeks she'd been trying to push down the feelings wanting to bubble up whenever he was around. She hated that she could feel the attraction all over her body. In her toes and the way they would curl a little inside her new red-soled Louboutin heels when he walked into a room. It travelled up and her knees would quake, legs becoming unsteady and it was lucky that most of the time she was already there, seated in her swivel chair, when he arrived to work in the morning. He asked her if her shoes were new and maybe she wasn't used to the height since she seemed a little _wobbly_? She was quick to agree (although not to quick, she wasn't eager or anything) and she told herself this lie so often that she almost believed it, _I'll practise walking in these amazing torture instruments tomorrow_.

It embarrassed her some to admit that the first time she'd seen him in that great purple shirt (the one that stretched perfectly across his chest, brought out the blue in his mostly green eyes and actually managed to enhance the "tall, dark and handsome" in a way she'd never thought possible, making her itch to pull her fingers through his hair just to mess him up) she'd squeezed her knees together and the sensitive nerve endings had reacted almost spontaneously, she was aroused. The stupid man had managed to get her wet just by wearing (and looking extremely edible in) a purple shirt. Sure, she hadn't had sex in a very long time, but that was just ridiculous. Later she tried picking up some guy at a bar but none matched her standards, she cursed blue-green eyes and ebony hair as she threw back her last tequila and walked out the door on balanced heels.

Her stomach would dance wildly inside her high-waisted pencil skirt or behind her cherry coloured blouse, especially when his gaze caught hers and they got stuck like that – neither turning away, oh, she desperately wanted to but was always held in place as if by invisible glue. Sometimes she'd feel sick to her stomach, when she was lying in bed at night thinking of the day, when it felt like everything she did was wrong and _why did he have to look at her that way anyway_?

The traitorous heart inside her chest would beat so hard and fast that she was sure not only he but also the entire Daily Planet newsroom could hear it. Blood pumping out and travelling all through her body, some spreading a blush across her collarbone, only pure willpower keeping it from advancing up the neck to her cheeks – Lois Lane doesn't blush. But no amount of practise or exercise of will can still her stubborn heart, she keeps trying and his presence keeps disturbing her rhythm. Alone in the elevator the stupid muscle seem to go into overdrive, deciding that this is the day the heart of Lois Lane will beat through the ribcage, chest and jump out to freedom. The erratic sound echoes loudly in her head and staring straight ahead she can feel his eyes on her, sneaking a glance it even looks like he's listening to something – a nervous giggle escape her lips and when the doors finally open her wobbly legs carry her away with forced poise and extra long steps.

Arms and hands gravitate towards his frame; making a point by settling her hand on his bicep, ending one of her comebacks with a small punch or gently grabbing his shoulder when leaning in to read some article draft on his fluorescent computer screen. The later proving extra dangerous after she discovers her disobedient thumb rubbing small circles on said shoulder, it's his soft sigh of pleasure that acknowledges the wayward touch and startled she quickly removes the hand entirely. His back stiffens almost unnoticeably and confused she makes some excuse and takes her own seat again. Next time she tells him to just e-mail her the draft instead.

Yes, her entire body might be affected – eyes finding him in a crowd (of course, he _is_ an unusually big man), nose immediately knowing it's him just by the scent of his cologne (he smells amazing, something she's known since she took over his bed at the farm, and now she feels the most safe falling asleep with his smell around her, which might explain the _borrowed_ flannel pyjamas) even the small hairs on her arms know when he's around, rising as if protecting from some chill – but her mind is alright.

She's still very much Lois Lane, and though she might have had some momentary laps of judgment during the fall, she knows better now. She even gave him a second chance in the early spring and he let her down, so much for putting yourself out there. She knows he feels it too – feels something at least, she wasn't stupid, remember? – but for reasons unknown he won't act and fine, neither will she.

She's smart and even though she's more stubborn (determined) than most she's decided to give up on him. Her body might be a primitive tool but her mind is sharp and the unwavering leader, she'll win this primal battle of urges and he'll never even know how hard it was.

Screw it. For one second she'll indulge the feelings, Lois Lane in love with Clark Kent. A peak across the desk and just like her body told her he's studying her, _something_ in his eyes and the invisible glue is there again. Her eyelids close and break the connection; she listens as her body screams for him, takes a deep breath and even though a hint of his scent makes it through, her heart slows from its high and the scream is silenced. Ignored.

Relaxed she opens her eyes again, focus on her article and nothing else, message now clear – your turn, take it or leave it.

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**AN2**: I don't know.


End file.
